Holmes & Friends & Fangirls vs The Zombies
by BlackMajikk
Summary: It begins as any ordinary fic of the sort, with  the shrieking of the fangirls and suchs, and then unexpectedly and violently descends into a stunning portrayal of the epic battle between Holmes, Watson, Mary, Avis, and Sarvy, against the Undead.
1. The Pebble

In Which Avis and Sarvy Go to the Past and Mess with Holmes

Once upon a time, in the far away mystical land of Idaho, a youngish girl came across a pebble. Now this pebble was no ordinary pebble. It had come all the way from Rhode Island! That's, like what, two states away? Now our heroine, not knowing this, decided that the pebble was not worth a fifteenth glance, and walked away. From the creepy red circle in the ground with the glowing Rhode Island pebble in the center. Well….whatevs.

Then, a gust of wind came and blew her into the pebble. The wind sounded oddly like a teenager screaming, "OMFG! Will you just pick it up already! The audience is BORED, D'Arvit!"

The youngish girl looked scared and confused. She proceeded to bolt away as fast as the creeper wind would allow her to.

"You know what?" said the Weird Wind. "Fug it. I'm going in there. I'll just warp my personality so much that it seems like another person. Plus, I'll refer to myself- HER as a different person. Yeah….this could work."

Suddenly, another youngish girl popped out of the abysm. (Oh, I forgot to tell you about the abysm. Well, yeah. There was an abysm. Kay bye now.) This one was a short, spunky little human, with a very short, very blue pixie haircut and f'awesome green eyes, who happened to be screaming, "OH, MY GODS! THIS IS FUGGING _PAINFUL._ GAH! FRICK! SHMIT! CRAPTASTIC! Why did no-one warn me about this?" She also happened to be hopping around as if insane, that is, mad. Her spazzing led her to stumble upon the glowing pebble with the suspicious circle.

She stopped dead and said, "Even though I have recently suffered a bout of excruciating pain THAT NO-ONE FUGGING WARNED ME ABOUT, I am still able to see that a glowing pebble in the middle of a sinister-looking perfect circle is a thing that should be picked up and examined, OBVIOUSLY."

And with that very obnoxious finish, Avis picked up the pebble and said, "Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hogwarts, PLEASE, Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hogwarts."

And she vanished in a flash of blinding light, along with her iPod, her Laptop, and her f'awesome blue suitcase filled with her f'awesome Sherlock Holmes themed and other random clothes. (By "her" we mean Wal-Mart's)

Tens of miles away from the spot in Idaho, yet ANOTHER youngish girl was in her room, dancing like a loon.

"CAL-i-fornia girls, we're undeniable, OoOoooO-"

And she proceeded to randomly vanish in a flash of light that would have blinded any human who would have been in the room, but not Sarah, our OTHER heroine. Oh, and she has stuff. Yes, it vanished with her. No, she doesn't know that.

And so the _Chronicles Of The People Who Own The Most Powerful Thing In All History But Chose To Use It To Travel Into Alternate Dimensions And Annoy Their Favorite Book Characters _begins.

Also known as the _In_ _Which Avis and Sarvy_ series. Because that would actually fit.


	2. The Dance

The two youngish girls appeared from apparently nowhere, into a bustling, congested*, cobbled London Street. Finding that they were in, not 21st century America, but in 19th century England, they had, though quite different, somewhat similar reactions. (They were both negative, because that's just the kind of people our heroines are. They are not "Ooooh….wow…yeah…" people, they are-)

"oOoo- GAH! OMFG! WHERE THE FUCK AM I?" and "I SAID HOGWARTS D'ARVIT! WOULD IT REALLY HAVE BEEN SO DIFFICULT? Ooh, I'm pissed now!" people respectively. Those kooky girls, eh? Yeah…

However, them being those people, that is Avis and Sarah, did them very little good in 19th century London. As the citizens gasped, and stared, and started to whisper, the two youngish girls slunk away aAawkwaaad-ly.

"Oh my God! Avis! Wow, how long has it been, you look great, how are your parents, blah blah blah, _where in the name of fucklolloy are we?"_

"Sarvy? How in the Milky did you get here! SQUEEE!," the bewildered teen asked her equally discombobulated, but slightly more furious BBFL!1!

"Did you not just hear my shortish tirade? I have absolulty no idea." She took in a deep breath and looked around her. "Oh the hey! We have stuff! Lookie, an _Oh Sheesh Y'all, 'Twas a dream!_ T-shirt!"

Following suit, Avis inspected her surrounding, seeing the baker a block away, the street name, Colley Ave, before it,and the cobbled streets they were standing on. Her gaze finally rested on-

"MY HAIR!" she shrieked. Indeed, in the shining store window, Avis saw, not her bright sapphire tresses as she usually did, but dull mouse brown locks. They were still in the pixie cut, but alas, it was no longer f'awesome. Breathing heavily with moisture welling in her eyes, she gasped out, "Ok, I can deal with this, less conspicuous right?" She then proceeded to wail.

"We can deal with your hair later, Avi my gel. Now, where are we?" asked the Voice of Reason. "I mean, is this T-shit telling me that it's a dream, or that we're as knuts as Amir?"

"Bitch, plz. Chillax. I wrote myself into a fan fiction, and then I followed the normal plot, and I arrived here. I don't know why you're here though. Ah wezzels." She wasn't yet over the loss of the f'awesomeness, and was pushing her hair back to avoid the sight of it.

"Which fand-Ohhh," She stopped, eyeing her compatriot's T-shirt, which held the axiom _Sherlock Holmes: 19__th__ century crackhead_. "Holmes. Go figure. Wait! HOLMES! I'M GOING TO MEET HOLMES! This is the best moment of my life."

"Yeah Ok. Vamoose, Mon Cherie." Avis darted into the crowd, than suddenly turned around and walked back dejectedly. " A) I left the bags. B) I left my fellow traveler. And C) I have no idea how to get form Colley to Baker Street. "

" We're in luck with C! I've been rummaging throught the bags-"

"When?"

"When you were lying on the floor crying about your loss of f'awesome. "

"Oh."

"Anyway, I found Mypod!" She triumphantly pulled out a battered iPod Touch and waved it about. " And a taser. Weird, eh?"

"FMUDGE YEAH- wait. No internet, smart one…" Avis was slowly becoming her snarky f'awesome old self again, despite the hair. " Oh my god. No internet. Do you hear what I'm saying? NO INTERNET! AHHHHHH!"

"Yeah, this sucks. But about the directions. Er… remember when I spent two weeks hogging your computer with Mypod plugged in? Well, I downloaded Google Earth. Yeah."

" I _don't_ remember. Is that even possible?"

"I dunno. Are you coming or what?" Sarvy gathered up the bags, and proceeded to lumber to Baker Street, Avis close on her heels.

I will now take this opportunity, while the girls are walking to the House of Holmes, to describe Sarvy and finish describing Avis.

Sarvy was a short(er than Avis), skinny(er than Avis) girl with blue and blue-outlined eyes and a fr'awesome black bob. They were both wearing jeans and T-shits, and identical purple Vans.

That didn't take long.

So they were there, walking and talking in 19th century England.

"So did you read that one fic, by Tarta Megami? It's called-"

"Rebelion, Yeah isn't it F'AWESOME!"

"She's the best, eh? I LOVE Plot Bunny Whisperer too, though."

"What did she write? IANAT?"

"Yeah, and the Voldie Letters. Hey, what was that one Darren Shan fic, the one with Annie and Steve?"

"The Bit Shan Left Out?"

"Yeah, that was it. Fr'awesomeright?"

"I dunno. I thought it was a bit OOC."

"Get out!"

rANDOMLY sWITCHING TO hOLMES'S POV

"Holmes, there appear to be two oddly dressed young ladies walking down the road. Don't let them wreck the house after I leave."

"My dear Mrs. Hudson, What on Earth makes you think that they are destined to grace notre humble porte?"

"I've learned to accept the fact that such odd people are drawn to my poor house."

"Never fear, woman. I'll take care that the two ladies refrain from the highly devastating activities that young girls are so prone too."**

"I should be so lucky."

Mrs. Hudson, shaking her head despairingly, proceeded down the front steps, and left in a cab before the girls noticed her, engaged as they were in their discussion of Cirque du Freak and shtuff.

"Bitch,as if. TVF is soooo the best."

"Have you even READ The Charoom?"

"I did, and I thought it was okay, but TVF is EPIC!"

"They were Scary Movie Three."

"HOW DARE YOU!"

Sarvy was tensed to fight, when she suddenly let out a fangirl shriek.

"We're HERE!" the one with f'awesome hair squeed. The two girls danced up the stairs. Upon reaching the top, Avis gave a little scream.

"Seventeen!" She crowed. "My shirt has officially kicked your-"

"Are you insinuating that I have doubted Crackhead tee?"

"What?"

"Oh say I ain't so!" She affected a terrible Southern accent and clasped her hands together.

"I'd wager that it is, and hat it'll make my job all the more difficult,"

At the sudden appearance of Sherlock Holmes, the two girls performed a rarely seen ritual.

It is called **The Dance of the Fangirl.**

Step 1) "Oh. My. God." The two girls breathed out the words simultaneously, standing stock still for a solid seven seconds before proceeding to:

Step 2) " SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-" a good two and a half minutes passed before they ceased, because this was not the Squeee of a sane Fangirl seeing a resident of Hollywood at universal Studios. Oh no. This was the sound of something much more magical. Plus they were both bonkers. After breahing for a nanosecond, the girls resumed the squeee, and it was 13:02 minuted before they decended into-

Step 3) " ohmygodOhmygodohmygod-"

"Mr. Holmes! I mean, Sher-no. But he looks just like Robert Downey Jr. YOU LOOKS JUST LIKE ROBERT DOWNEY JR! Gah! Does that mean we're in movie verse? WHO CARES? HOLMESIE MY DARLING BUTTERCUP FAIRY-"

"Wait, what?"

"Erk….mah bad. I apologize."

"OK. OhmygodohmygodOhmygodohmygod-"

"HOLMES! Sign my Crackhead tee!"

Holmes, bewildered, began to speak, which may have promted,

Step 4) the girls fainting dead away.

And so ends the **Dance**.

Badumdum.

*"Congested" is right! (COUGHHACKWHEEZE)

**Lulz. It's funny because it's true and they don't think so.


	3. The Meeting

As the two girls failed to respond to the smelling salts, Holmes was forced to carry them in. After dropping Sarvy unceremoniously onto a couch, he found that Avis had already crept into the room and was sitting on the sitting room table.

"Sup!" she cried, at which point Sarvy sat up abruptly and asked as to the location of Amir Blumenfeld.

"No, my dearling, remember, there is no Internet. But we DO have Holmes," trilled Avis.

Sarvy looked reproachfully at Avis. "Why the FUCK did you leave our bags outside? They could be stolen by marauding marauders! Plus, MYYYYPOD!" Upon declaring this final word, Sarvy plopped swiftly back onto the couch and fell back to look at the ceiling.

"Lulz. That was some random shit. I love how we can curse in 19th century England without people gasping. I mean, FUCKING 19th CENTURY ENGLAND. Because most things haven't been invented yet." She cast her gaze upon Holmes, who was being suspiciously quiet, exclaiming, "Oh hi! Sorry for spazzing out on you earlier, we just….um…are fans?"

"Yeah, that works." Sarvy was still looking at the ceiling, making strange faces for no apparent reason. "Hey, Avis, should we tell the goodly detective where we hail from, or should we just let him flounder?"0

"I would tell him, but…."

"I know, right?"

"If it was literally anyone else…."

"But, we really should-"

"That's actually kind of mean-"

"Who cares? He's Holmes-"

"Well, his name is synonymous with 'Smart One'-"

"Plus, it'll be FUNNY"

"Yeah, that it will."

"So…?"

"Ah, go ahead. Starchild1234 'im"

Sarvy grinned. Holmes gulped. The air was still and silent as Sarvy opened her mouth slowly and blinked creepily. A few birds fainted from fright. Holmes considered running away, screaming for his mommy. It was actually really terrifying.

"Soooooooo…." She widened her smile. "Do you, Sherlock Holmes, the reputably greatest detective of all the times, in all the lands plus Canada, who was once-"

"OH MY GOD, SARV, JUST ASK ALREADY! I'm getting BORED!"

"Fine! Gosh!" She pouted, and then stopped because Avis was poking her with a very long stick. It might have belonged to a window. "Can you guess where we are from?"

"Eh, could've done without the signing. If not, could've done without the Blue's Clues," Avis commented, while twirling the stick like a baton.

Sherlock, who before was busying himself with the very same question Sarvy had just asked him, was hoping that they would forget about asking him the one question of which he had almost no possibility of answering correctly. But alas, Lady Misfortune was hiding in his house that day, rummaging through his stuff and messing up his hair.

"You are from America," he said confidently, as that was the only thing about them he was sure of.

"Yeeeeees, goooood, any shmuck could have guessed that from the accents, but gooood." Avis lingered sarcastically on almost every word, causing Sarvy to whack her with her own stick, and howl for her not to be mean to the poor detective, and that he'd probably had a long day or something, and that that was the reason his brain was all pumbly. This brought about many inquiries and postulations as to the definition of 'pumbly'. At which time Sarvy replied that she made the f'awesome word up.

"Straight up." She swiveled her head to look at Holmes. "But you were saying?"

This exchange prompted Holmes to take a chance, and venture to use the HIGHLY IMPROBABLE explanation.

"You are from the future."

"No, shit, Sherlock." The girls dissolved into giggles.

"But seriously," Avis said in a reasonable-sounding voice. "Yeah, we are from 2010, where the whole world had a cat fetish, and your genius is obsolete because we have DNA tracking."

"She's kidding." Sarvy said. "Wait, do people even know what _kidding_ means here?"

"LOL. IDK. I fail at etymology."

"I lied, Holmes, m'dar. We, from the future, do not have DNA tracking. But we DO have Google!"

"Well, WE don't"

"Oh, right. That's sad."

Avis was about to pout, when she suddenly, she remembered the bags. "The bags!" she cried, and ran out to fetch them. " Hey, Mr. I-Can-Bend-A Poker-"

"Like a BOSS!"

"Lulz. True. But anyway, Sarvy, my old chum, will you endeavor to assist me in the carrying in of our f'awesome bags?" The last sentence she said in a British accent.

"Yeah, if you stop muarderin' the Queen 's English"

She got up off the couch ("Whoa, head rush!") and hopped over to the door, grabbed the bags off the porch, and was promptly locked out of the house by Holmes.

"WTF?"

"If you girls will not be requiring my assistance, I will have to ask you to leave the premises, and bid you a good day."

"But-but we're fans!" Avis cried out. "This NEVER happens!"

"Good day, ladies."

"Oh, come ON!" Sarvy wailed. "We don't have any money or anything!"

Holmes left the door, and replied no more.

Sarvy began to pace, as Avis began to freak out. At long last, after much wringing of the hands and shrieking, the girls decided to do nothing, and sit on the porch until Watson came along. Luckily for them, the doctor arrived at 221 B in a matter of minutes.

"Hi, John!"

Watson was not entirely shocked to hear that they had been locked out by Holmes, but was he really wondered at was their strange attire. When he asked them about that, they nonchalantly replied that they were from the future, and asked him if he was going to let us in. At hearing this, Watson immediately changed his tone.

"Yes, I'll let you in," he said, to the girls, "But first, we're just going to go stop off at a lovely place, with lots of lovely people."

"We're not _crazy_! Like that."

"He thinks we're crazy! …Like _that_."

"How can you not believe us?"

"Yeah, look at all this f'awesome future shit we have!"

The girls each opened one of the bags both large and rectangular, and looked through it.

"Whoa, a flame thrower!"

"Not the best demonstration, Sarvy."

"There's all sorts of dangerous shit here, Ave."

"Not helping," the girl with the green eyes, Ave, muttered.

The first girl, Sarvy, threw her bag aside, and picked up a smaller one, this one a bright blue. "Eye-pad?" she asked her compatriot.

"Yeah sure, that'll work."She sighed. "Ipad without Internet. Tragic, innit?"

"Yeah."

Ave waved a large, rectangular piece of metal in front of Watson's face.

"Now do you believe us?"

Watson surveyed the rectangle. "Yes, it is very futuristic. Come, I'll take you to some other people from the future, on Presence Street."

"Oh, as if. We're crazy, Watson, not stupid." Ave scoffed. "Sarvy just jumped the gun on the 'believe us' line."

"Sorry 'bout that. I'll just turn it on now." She touched the base of the metal, and it lit up BRILLIANTLY in a picture of a skyscraper.

"Sarvy, if ya please,"

"Now do you believe us?"

Watson's eyes were as wide as dinner plates as he ushered them inside the house.


	4. The Discovery

In Which Avis and Sarvy Discover Something Suspicious

Avis and Sarvy, upon Watson's invitation into the lovely, charming, and somewhat orderly, due to the never-ceasing efforts of the long suffering landlady, house, pranced through the door, yowling triumphantly at their thwarting of Holmes's design to keep them out of 221B. This involved much of the "MUAHAHA"ing along with a few ephemeral bouts of "We're BaaAaAAck". Watson was far too awed at the fantastical happenings to much regard the ladies' conduct. The prospect of visitors from the future, and what they might give to the science of medicine, rendered him blind to the frighteningly obvious and painfully abundant evidence that the two "fourth dimension hoppers" were hardly going to give him copious amount of useful and even slightly valid medicinal information.

Holmes on the other hand, who had been experiencing something _almost_ slightly resembling regret at having cast such interesting persons away to the cold dark streets of London, was remembering, upon their return to his abode, the reasons for which he had expelled them. Although they could potentially add much to his understanding of…well everything, he doubted that they would stay focused long enough to say anything useful. Moreover, it was unnatural, and unexplainable. Such things may have made common men descend into a state of panic resulting from fear of the unknown, and scientists wary of complications, but Homes was neither. He was a consulting detective.

Determined to understand the strange phenomenon he attempted to keep patience when dealing with the girls. As you can imagine, this was somewhat unbearable.

Sarvy had pulled an encyclopedia off a shelf and was now roaring with laughter over the misinformation of the 19th century. Avis was now poking around the room, and occasionally shouting out things like, "Let's save Lincoln!", or "Let's go invent Jell-o!", and the like. She was also pointing out things that 'could kill you'.

"They can't _really_ be from the future, can they?" Watson asked Holmes; half hoping he would say that the two girls were raving lunatics, and that their glowing rectangle had been an elaborate ruse, easily explained by science. 19th century science, that is.

"It seems like the most logical explanation, my dear Watson." Despite his apparent lack of awe, Holmes was actually just as fascinated by their visitors from the future, though he was not fascinated enough to enjoy their presence after they had mocked him so profusely. Indeed, Watson held similar sentiments, as Sarvy began to ridicule the science of medicine.

"Well, what is it then, exactly?"Watson asked, after hearing Sarvy's despairing comments about a kind of fungal infection.

"Can't tell you, my dearling, for fear of causing universe-destroying paradoxes!"Avis sniggered behind her hand as Watson scowled.

"Bloody irritating, aren't they?" Watson uttered this in a much softer voice, for fear of offending the girls and propelling them into a fit of rage. "They _can't_ be thinking we'll let them stay! For one thing, it would be quite improper. For another, there's little room to accommodate them. For yet another -"He gesticulated widely toward the two girls, one of whom (Avis) was blatantly stealing random objects from the room and replacing them with foreign money , as if to say, 'Just look at them!"

"Good thing we took the bags in this time, eh Sarv?" Avis had taken an empty bag and was filling it with the items she had "bought".

"Huh? Oh yeah. Is that a stamp box or something? Weird. But anyway, listen to this: living organisms differ from nonliving things as a result of possessing a life force -"

"Don't make fun of the lovely primitive people, Mangle. It's rude. It's also funny, but I digress."

"No you don't. You've never digressed in your life."

"Whatever. Hey, let's go to the capital and give the president an iPod!"

"Let the battery run out first?"

"You're evil!"

"Do we even have an iPod?"

"Besides Mypod? IDK."

Avis and Sarvy began again to search the bags in hope of finding an eye-Pod, whatever that was. The bags, which before Watson had not paid a second glance, were filled with all of a manner of strange, futuristic things, which included, but were not limited to, exceptionally odd clothing, mostly similar to that which the girls were wearing, many pieces of square and rectangular metal, of varying shapes and sizes, and one bright red bag appeared to be filled with lethal looking objects.

Avis, who was looking through the bright red bag, pulled out each of the objects, naming them, and sounding astounded.

"Whoa, lookie, Sarv! It's a ghaddam, flame thrower!"

"You mean to say these weapons are not yours?"

"Oh, cluck no! What do think we are, some kind of homicidal mani-"

At this point, Avis was cut short by Sarvy's screams of terror. They looked over at her, and saw her clutching five identical copies of a book, which was entitled,

"_How to Survive a Horror Movie?_ I loved that book! Wait….Oohhh…That can't be-"

"No! Nonononononono! Look, on every copy the mover- I mean, the word movie, is crossed out replaced by," Sarvy, trembling with fear at this unknown terror, somehow managed to gasp out the last word. ", Fic."

"How to survive a Horror Fic." Avis's eyes were as the size of small moons as she uttered the title of the book in a voice so soft it wouldn't wake a dormouse.

As she stood stock still, shocked into a state of stillness that was otherwise unthinkable, Holmes and Watson glanced at each other, bewildered.

Holmes began to speak. "Girls, I hardly think-"He was cut off by both Sarvy and Avis, who were now lovely shades of green.

"No, Holmes, you don't understand-"

"STFU, sir. I'm sorry, but SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP. We're all-"

"We can get through this, if we stick together, or something idiotic like that. Hey, If Jude Law-"

"Don't you understand, Ave? Can't you see our impending doom on these laminated covers? It's a fic, Ave, it's sosososo much worse than a movie. They have an unlimited budget. Are you hearing me? _An unlimited budget!_ To make Watson Jude Law all they have to do is write, Watson looked like Jude Law! No paying for the f'awesome actor. No copyright infringement! _They don't have to pay for anything or be qualified or do anything other than sit at a computer and _(deep breath_). _I mean, look!" Sarvy ran over to furniture and pulled open a drawer, which was filled with papers and the like.

"So none of the ejector seats…?"

"NO, Avis, a genre-switch _will not_ save us!"

"And jarringly good dialog is a good thing!"

"_Yes!_"

"What's the rating?"

"_I don't know_!"

"This is bad."

"This is _veryveryvery_ bad. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod."

"Ohhhhhh…"

"Hey! I have an idea!" Sarvy said to Avis. "Let's leave!"

"I don't know how to! All the other fics don't even say anything about that! I just thought we'd stay here for like a week, mess with Holmes and have a good old time-"

"And leave! Wasn't that part of the plan? LEAVING?"

"Well, we can't now! Deal with it."

"We're all going to die. I'm going to die. I'M GOING TO EFFING DIE YOU DUMB BI-!"

"Pull yourself together!" Avis snapped. She pulled out one of the copies of the book that had caused all this fretting. "We're in a Horror Fic. This is the situation. We just have to deal with it. If we're smart, we'll live. And we have Sherlock Holmes on our side, Sarv. We can do this. We can do this. OK? OK. I'm going to look in the book now, and see what's coming to kill us. Sarvy, calm down. You're no good to us all panicked. Okay. So, we're in England. The natural assumption would be werewolves, and-. OOoooh My god."

"What now?"

"Don't freak out."

"_What?"_

"All the _Undead_ pages are torn out."

"ERK!"

"Ok, in the red bag we have weapons and stuff, so it can't be ghosts. No holy water, so it can't be vampires. That only leaves-"

Simultaneously, Sarvy and Avis took in a deep breath, and said, mostly to themselves, "Zombies."


	5. The Skirmish

In Which Avis and Sarvy Prepare for Battle

"Can you imagine the cool-ass music that would be playing in the background right now?"

"If we were in a movie?"

"Yeah, if we were in a movie."

"This wouldn't be happening if we were in a movie."

"Yeah, I guess you're right"

There was a terrible, raging storm out. Thunder and lightning ruled the skies, and sent down beads of rain and sheets of sleet, their soldiers, to conquer the earth. The two girls, clad head to toe in thick plastic, coving all but their eyes, were sorting though the weapons, looking through instruction manuals, putting on kick-ass gear, and generally suiting up. They were being astoundingly quiet, for hyped-up battle-ready versions of Avis and Sarvy, and they weren't yelling or shrieking or flailing about like insane llamas in their usual lighthearted manner. It was abundantly clear that they were scared out of their wits.

Holmes and Watson were watching on from a shadowy corner, very creeperishly, analyzing the situation in hushed tones. Neither Avis nor Sarvy had told either of them anything about their current predicament. They were questioning the sanity of the girls, the world, and themselves, contemplating the miserable situation that they had been thrown into so unexpectedly. The consulting detective believed that there was an impending and legitimate threat whereas the doctor was more inclined to dismiss the youngsters as demented children that had been cast out by their own society and disposed of into the past. They were discussing theories as to the definition of "zombie", a word that was reoccurring frequently in the lass' conversation. Watson, obtuse as he it, thought it was a nonsense name given to a hallucination. Holmes, mildly stupid as he was, thought it was some sort of robot-demon-spirit-thing.

"Crossbow?"

Sarvy held out the weapon to the view of the room, offering Avis the weapon.

"Yeah, sure. I'll take it. I've taken a few archery classes."

"M-kay"

"Look, some glasses-helmets-things. Good for covering your eyes."

"How many?"

"Five"

"Gimme. I wonder who the other person is supposed to be."

"I dunno"

"Eh. We'll find out soon enough."

"When what's-his-or-her-face comes, we should debrief Holmes and Watson."

"I guess. Your call, really."

"S'alright. We'll do that then."

...

...

...

"This is so un-fun."

"Yeah. It is."

"Can't wait until ZK-5 comes in."

"ZK-5?"

"Zombie-Killer. The fifth one."

"Who's ZK-1?"

"The person who kills the first zombie."

"But for now?"

"I dunno. I guess our normal names?"

"Yeah. That's probably the best thing to do. Although code names-"

BAM. The door swung upon. Holmes and Watson sharply took in a breath of air. A dripping wet Mary Watson turned out of the doorway, stabbed something out of their view with a broom handle, kicked another, and slammed the door shut. She locked it, bolted it, and slumped to the ground. Avis and Sarvy grimly glanced at each other, snatched up a few weapons, and rushed out the back door. Watson, snapping out of his shock, rushed over to her side. Holmes simply looked bewildered.

"Mary? What's wrong? What happened?"

She shook her head. Tears and rainwater formed mixed tracks on her face, dripping off her chin. Holmes looked angry and horrified.

"Who's done this to you? They'll pay," Watson growled, a surprising sound coming from a refined gentleman of the 19th century. This gentleman looked ready to kill, slaughter. Savage rage painted his features, a disturbing product of hatred and love.

"M-monsters," she gasped out. "Horrible things, dead things, dead bodies, they were here. Oh it was awful! Awful! They came for me. It was dark a- and - and- my house! They took it! They squelched and it was easy but so many! So awful! They had teeth! The shine! In the dark! The monsters could see me, in the house! In my house! It was my house! Our house! John, our house! Gone, all gone" She was raving like a maniac, but her words rang true, in their halting, gasping, incoherent way. Her dress was splattered with rotting entrails. The broomstick she had used to fight off the monsters was a disgusting red-brown-black-green-grey. She shivered and shuddered as Watson carried her to the spare room, arms around him all the while.

The sounds of battle raged outside. Explosions, shrieks, screams echoed through the street. Minutes later, Avis and Sarvy were back in the house, wrapped in blankets and drinking cocoa. They had shed their plastics suits, now dotted in entrails, for comfy pajamas.

"Well, There were only a few, and they were wounded. I think the objective was to get Mary here. "

"Infect her?"

"Probably. I think the author wanted Holmes and Watson to rush out in a blaze of glory to defend a helpless maiden."

"Looks like the zombies bit off more than they could chew with Mare here. "

"Yeah, she really p'wned. And not infected at all."

Avis raised an eyebrow. "How are you so sure?"

"I asked Holmes."

"You asked a 19th century consulting detective if she'd been given a hitherto unknown disease that would rot her from the inside out, turning her into a zombie?"

"No, I asked him if she'd been hurt at all in the battle, smart one."

"Did you-"

"Yes, I put enough emphasis on the AT ALL."

"Wasn't what I was going to ask, Einstein."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"OH YEAH?"

"YEAH!"

"Oh god, we're all going to die horrible painful deaths wishing we were in Idaho, running though the bountiful potato plains of our hometown. Or hometown that's in Idaho. It's the state that's near Iowa. That's called Idaho. ERK!"

"Charming. But anyway, backing up to my point now. "

"Which is….?"

"Did you or did you not debrief John and Sherlock yet?"

"John and Sherlock? And no, I did not."

"Urg! We'll do that when John and Mary come down. "

"They won't be happy."

"Oh, you think so?"

"How do we know they're even going to help us?"

"We don't."

"God, spare us from the inner workings of your unearthly genius, why don't you?"

"Do you have a better plan?"

"No, I don't. Okay? This is me, giving up hope."

"Don't do that! We'll die for sure!"

"Fine! Gosh!"

"Watson and Mary are here."

"Oh god. This'll be fun."


End file.
